11 Reasons
by BohemiaLMM
Summary: Tristan loves Galahad for many reasons. Slash TristanGalahad. Rating will change.
1. Reason 01 aKa Reason 01

Disclaimer: I do not own Tristan, Galahad, King Arthur, etc. I'm not even close to owning them.

Author's Note: Omg. It's not a Rent story! Here's the scoop. I've joined a new writing challenge on LiveJournal, and it's 11 Reasons. So, using my prompts, I'm writing 11 Reasons Why Tristan Loves Galahad. I apologize now for any out of character bits, and for the crappy length. I'm trying to make them longer as I go. Be gentle. This is my first King Arthur fic. Enjoy.

_**REASON #1**_

Tristan loves it when Galahad touches him. Despite himself, Tristan always leans into the warmth of the younger knight. He finds it amazing how through all the battles, and harsh weather conditions, Galahad's skin stays so smooth – so perfect. It is a refreshing surprise for Tristan at the end of every day. It is especially comforting on days that are less than good.

On such a day, Tristan has fallen ill. It is not serious – merely a small cough. However, it is enough to put him slightly off his game. The other knights notice it. Arthur, as usual, asks Tristan to ride ahead and check the trail for any enemies on their way back from a small mission. Tristan nods, doing as if requested of him. His acute awareness is obviously below average as he rides away. The knights exchange glances, but say nothing. When Tristan returns, he is coughing. He tells them of Woads blocking the way. Arthur instructs him to find a different way to return to the wall, since he does not want to risk Tristan's condition becoming worse. Reluctantly, yet obediently, Tristan turns away from his companions and leaves them.

He is resting when the knights return. He hears them coming from a mile away. He stirs slightly, still angry about being sent away. Then, as if knowing he is needed, Galahad walks quietly into Tristan's quarters. He sits on Tristan's bed, noting the slight rasp in the older man's breathing.

"Why are you ill?" Galahad asks.

"Why must you ask questions?" Tristan's eyes open. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he looks at Galahad.

"You're mad that you couldn't fight. And that was a statement, not a question."

"Has Gawain taught you that attitude?"

Galahad doesn't answer. Instead, he pushed Tristan's hair out of his face, then caresses his cheek. Tristan's eyes close again a silent sigh escapes him. Another small smile graces his face.

"You know, Galahad," Tristan murmurs contentedly, "perhaps I should fall ill more often, if this is the treatment that gets bestowed on me."

Galahad laughs.

"I can't understand you, Tristan. You are always so solitary and secretive. Why do you never show this side of you?"

"I must enjoy your company."

With a small roll of his eyes, Galahad kisses Tristan softly. He stands up, and Tristan grabs his hand as it leaves his face.

"Get some rest," instructs Galahad. "Knowing you, you'll be gone by dawn."

That said, Galahad leaves. Tristan holds on to his hand for as long as possible before it slips out of his grip. He loves Galahad's touch, and, although he will never admit it, it is just one of the many reasons why he loves Galahad.

* * *

Author's Note: Yay! #1 Done! 


	2. Reason 02 aKa Knights Have Off Days Too

Author's Note: And part two right off the bat! Woot!

_**REASON #02**_

Galahad is right – Tristan is gone as soon as the sun rises. He doesn't go very far, though. The weather is getting colder, and his cough is growing worse. He arrives at the stables long before the other knights awaken. As a way to pass the time, Tristan grooms and pampers his horse. It doesn't seem like long before he hears footsteps behind him.

"Tristan." It is Arthur's voice. "I see you are feeling better."

Tristan looks at his commander and nods. He knows that Arthur can tell that he is lying.

"Are you going to join us for breakfast, then?" Arthur motions to the door.

"How could I refuse?"

Tristan gives his horse a light pat and exits with Arthur. When he arrives at the "breakfast" table, he is greeted by a jovial bunch of knights. Lancelot is poking fun at Bors, with occasional help from Dagonet, while Galahad is twisting about Gawain's hair. Tristan sits and begins eating a piece of bread, surveying the others.

"Tristan!" Galahad exclaims suddenly. "How do you do that?"

"I have many answers for that question. Exactly what are you asking about?"

"How do you braid your hair?"

"I twist the hair around itself."

Galahad frowns. He goes about attempting to use that instruction to braid Gawain's hair. Tristan leans back and watches with amusement. He enjoys watching Galahad act so carefree. It's something that he can achieve better than the others, which Tristan credits to his youth. He grins partially when Galahad throws his hands up His grin fades slightly as Galahad makes his way over to him.

"What are you up to now?"

Galahad takes one of Tristan's braids.

"I'm learning." He proceeds to undo the braid. He takes his time, working out the way that the pieces of hair are woven around each other. Once the braid is completely undone, Galahad attempts – and fails – to make a new one. "This is impossible!"

By now all of the knights are watching. They are light heartedly harassing Galahad.

"What's the matter, Galahad?" Tristan takes his hair in his hands. "You've been victorious in countless battles, and yet a tiny braid is too much for you. Watch closely – I'm only doing this once." Very slowly, as if teaching a small child, Tristan begins braiding his hair. When he is done, he returns to his breakfast.

Galahad watches intently. He returns to Gawain and braids a section of his hair. A large grin splits across his face.

"I did it!" He looks at the others proudly.

They all cheer and whistle for Galahad, and Tristan discreetly hides a cough. The logical part of his brain tells him to get some more rest, but he doesn't listen to it. It isn't often that the knights have such a laid-back day. Besides, he loves it when Galahad is so cheerful, and it makes him love Galahad all the more.

* * *

Author's Note: Reviews are love. Please no flames. I'm learning as I write. 


	3. Reason 03 aKa Bed Time Story

Author's Note: So ... This isn't really a "reason" ... But it's the best I could do. And I'm really rather fond of it. Still lots of fluff and no major slash, but that is changing a lot in the next two chapters. I promise. Enjoy!

**_REASON #03_**

Galahad cannot sleep. He wanders aimlessly. His eyes catch the sight of a fire flickering off in the distance. He decides to ignore it. However, Galahad's curiosity gets the better of him. He grabs his sword, as well as his bow and some arrows. He fetches his horse and rides towards the fire. Stopping a fair distance away, Galahad dismounts his horse and takes only his sword. Stealthily, he creeps towards the fire.

"What are you doing, sneaking around like this, Galahad?"

"What are you doing, sitting here by yourself?" Galahad frowns and walks up next to the fire. He lays his sword on the ground. Tristan glances up at the sky, then at the fire.

"I'm enjoying the last days before the snow. You should be asleep."

"I can't." Galahad sits next to Tristan. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. "My mother used to tell me tales about bad things that happened to children who left their homes at night."

"Perhaps you should go back home, then."

"I don't remember my mother very well," Galahad continues, ignoring Tristan. "Sometimes I dream about her, but I can never see her. I'll bet she's beautiful, though. With long, curly brown hair and deep, rich eyes - blue or brown." A smile forms on his lips. "I remember her voice, though. As though I heard it only yesterday. ... Tristan? Do you think we'll be going home soon?"

Tristan looks at Galahad and studies him momentarily.

"No. I don't think so."

Galahad's face falls. He had anticipated that answer, yet did not want to hear it. He stares into the fire. Tristan moves closer to him.

"I'm going to tell you a story, Galahad."

Tristan watches Galahad's spirits lift slightly. He smiles only to himself, knowing how much the younger knight loves stories. Looking into the flames, Tristan chooses his words carefully.

"Once, a long time ago, there was a group of warriors. They were taken from their homes to fight in a distant and wild land for reasons that they could not help. As the years passed, their numbers grew smaller and the warriors grew closer. They became a family, each of them watching out for the others. In time, they forgot about the homes they were taken away from. They learned that they no longer had one single place to call home, but together was home for them."

Galahad bows his head slightly. He knows that Tristan is right. A small shiver creeps through him, and Tristan puts an arm around him. Galahad leans himself against the older man.

"You should tell stories more often."

"I'll leave the story telling to you."

Tristan does not need to look at Galahad to see him smile. Galahad loves telling stories almost more than he loves hearing them. He tells stories of everything, and, regardless of what the others might think, Tristan is always keen to hear them. Tristan leans against a tree and closes his eyes, reminding himself to have Galahad tell him a story about home one day.

* * *

Author's Note: Reviews make me a happy camper. D 


End file.
